Wrapping Presents

With Christmas and the other holidays approaching, I have been forced to engage in that hated activity: wrapping presents. Like all true males, I am not merely bad at wrapping. I am horrific. I can take beautiful wrapping paper, tape, and a great gift (all my gifts are great) l and transform it all into shameful ruin. Naturally, I take pride in possessing this anti-skill.

My female friends (who all seem to be gifted wrappers that can transform a paper sack into a magical wrapping wonder) don’t seem to understand this anti-skill. Here is how it often goes:

Me: “Merry Christmas!”

Friend: “What the hell is that? What the hell?”

Me: “Your present.”

Friend: “What? It looks like a drunken llama chewed up a bunch of festive wrap and then threw up a cud.”

Me: “Nice. I’ll just take that back.”

Friend: “Wait…you usually have something great under all that llama puke. I’ll just close my eyes when I open it.”

Me: “Hey, your boyfriend says he does the same thing when he undresses you.”

Friend: “Hah hah. But, how can you create such horrible things? I’ve seen you work on computers so I know that you actually have manual dexterity.”

Friend: “About the person you are giving gifts to? I knew it…you men are heartless pigs.”

Me: “Well, yeah. But it is that we don’t care about wrapping stuff. It seems like such a waste of time. You know, like allowing women to walk around clothed when they could just be naked all the time.”

Friend: “What?”

Me: “Nothing. Forget I said that. Anyway, we just don’t care enough to wrap stuff in a festive and magically wonderful holiday fashion.”